Chapter 39: On the run

Erik:

We do our best to follow the river upstream. I do my best to keep up with Giv and Nate. Norrix is in a bottomless bag, as it is sunny outside. We make it to Amestavora after ten hours of walking.

The town's white walls seem to loom before us. I have never been to Amestavora. It is a hunting settlement, and the people there are more interested in selling their wares, than buying from the caravan.

More than that, it seems to be an elven settlement. We are let in, after Givontair pays the visitor's tax. I am not convinced that such a thing is asked from the other people who pass through.

Yet, there is little someone can hide from the elves. They know who we are. More than that, they placed bracelets on our hands, which will turn into chains, if we do something like attacking one of the elves who call this town home.

Still, I rather like it in here. The houses are up in the trees. With bridges connecting the various trees. There are roads beneath the trees, but they are only big enough, for three people to walk side by side. I wonder, how do they deliver the wares to the market?

When night falls, Givontair pulls Norrix out of the bottomless bag. The vampire stretches, and then accepts the bracelet from Givontair.

"I have forgotten how mistrustful the elves are," Norrix says. Givontair shakes his head.

"Can you blame them? They get attacked by shades and necromancer daily," the dragon says. I look around, waiting for a necromancer to jump from a dark corner.

"There is none bar me in the town, presently," Nate says, which calms me down a little.

"We should visit the clinic. Perhaps I can help out there, as we wait for a caravan to lead us to the grasslands," Givontair suggests. I perk up at that. The grasslands are fun. You can run in just any direction, and never get tired from the greenery.

"I'll go and book us rooms at the inn," Nathaniel suggests. I take Givontair's hand, and let him lead me.

"Have you been here before, Giv?" I ask him.

"Once or twice. This place never changes," Giv stops before a white building. It has the two twined serpents that show that this is a clinic of some sort. Givontair takes out a pin, and places it on his trench coat.

A pair of elven guards come our way.

"Are you a healer?" One of them asks, as he eyes the pin.

"Yes, with more than 90,000 years' worth of practice," Givontair says. I suppose, seeing as the elves know that he is a dragon, he doesn't want to lie to them.

"You are Givontair the White, are you not?" The other guard asks.

"Yes, if you have heard about me, you'd know that I can bring just about anyone from death's door," Givontair sounds not like he is boasting, but rather stating a fact.

"You better deliver. Or you will be kicked out of our town," the guards turn around. Without another word, they lead us into the clinic. The beds in the clinic are all filled. I can see that Givontair stops and stares.

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"Just what happened here?" He asks.

"After they came back from a hunt, they all collapsed. It was almost as if they were poisoned," the guard then leaves us. Givontair motions me over, and we both make our way to the nearest bed.

The dragon looks the patient from all angles. He taps on the man's knee, and then takes his arm, and moves it this way or that. The elf looks at us with half-lidden eyes.

"This man seems to have damaged nerve endings," Givontair says. "We must check on all of them, before we act."

We go from bed to bed, and Givontair keeps on testing the elves, the same way, that he tested the first one. When he is done, he pulls out a pair of gloves.

"Erik, do you still want to be a healer?" Giv asks me. I nod energetically. To be able to stop other's suffering. To do good. That sounds much better, than what the Elder Dryad wants of me.

"What are we going to do?" I ask my guardian.

"Nerve transplants. They are all with a temporary paralysis. Fortunately for them, I can do such an operation. We just need donors for this task. Come on, let us go, and see if the guards can't help," I nod at that, and we go back towards the entrance. The guards are still there, keeping vigil.

"Honorable elves, how would you like to become donors of nerves?" Givontair asks. The guards share a look.

"You want for us to be crippled?" One of them says, as he takes a hold of the pommel of his sword.

"I can regrow your nerves, but the nerves I need to get working on the patients are already too damaged for that," Giv says. "No harm will come to you. I can even heal any pain you have been enduring for a long time now. Don't think that I didn't notice how one of you limps."

"You can do mana treatment?" The guard who limped asks; his voice full of hope.

"I can. Even though it won't help the hunters much. But for the two of you, it will be effective," Giv tells them. I blink at that. There are things that can't be healed with mana? But I thought that this was a multi-function cure.

"You better not cripple us," the same guard as before says. Givontair just smiles at them.

Hours later, Giv is barely standing on his feet. The guards are healthier than they were before, and twenty elves managed to get back on their feet. This seems to have an effect on the town's folk.

They greet us in the streets. So far, we got five dinner invitations. Yet, Giv just leads me to the inn. As soon as we are in our room, he collapses in the bed. I look at Nathaniel, who pulls the blankets over Giv's form.

"Did you learn something useful?" Nate asks.

"That I need more mana, if I am ever to be Giv's equal," I say. Nathaniel sighs, and goes to lay on the bed next to Giv. I take the child sized bed, that is below the window. I wonder where Norrix is right now?

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